Echoes of Memory
by yougotalifetime
Summary: Set after episode 33, Cassette. Carlos finds Cecil in their apartment and attempts to comfort him. All Cecilos fluff and angst.
Cecil waited numbly until the on-air light turned off before getting up slowly from his chair.

 _It's…it's kind of this flickering in the corner of my eye…_

He walked out of the radio station, past the old station management's office - dimly aware of the lack of strange lights under the door and the absence of intense psychic pain in his head – and out the door to his beaten down car.

 _My brother says I'll never make it in radio…_

He drove home, to the apartment he and Carlos shared. He drove mechanically, letting muscle memory take him to the correct destination.

 _That weird movement is back, and it's – it's closer now…_

Once inside the apartment, he headed for the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He curled into a ball in the corner of the room. He placed his head on his knees, his arms over his head, trying to blot out the noise of a fifteen year old boy with his name.

 _That flickering movement is everywhere now…_

 _I know it…_

 _I_ know _it…_

 _I'm looking in a mirror…_

Carlos was driving as fast as he dared through the streets of Night Vale. He'd been performing an experiment, calmly listening to Cecil's show on the radio, when he'd noticed something was wrong. Cecil had stuttered, faltered in his narrative. His voice was shaky for a brief moment, before returning to normal, picking up where he'd left off. These tapes he'd found had him scared, Carlos could tell. He mentally kicked himself as he took a corner, nearly knocking over Old Woman Josie and one of her angels. He'd encouraged Cecil to take the tapes in, thought it could be a fun segment, give the listeners a taste of what a young Cecil was like.

 _However long ago_ that _was_ , Carlos thought. He tried not to think about Cecil's age. _Cecil_ tried not to think about his age.

As soon as the show ended, Carlos knew he had to reach Cecil. He had to make sure his boyfriend was okay. He'd sounded pretty shaken.

He pulled into the driveway outside their apartment, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the apartment. He fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them. As soon as the door was open, he tumbled into the apartment, straight for their bedroom. The door was closed. He tried the handle. Locked.

 _Dammit, Cecil_.

"Cecil, honey?" Carlos called through the door. No response. "Sweetie, I heard your show today. Are you okay?" Still nothing. Carlos pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear signs of movement. He thought he heard a vague sob, but couldn't be sure, it was too soft. He tried to jiggle the handle again, desperation rising in his chest. He had to make sure Cecil was okay, had to be there for him. He _had_ to.

"Ceec, let me in," he coaxed. "I just want to talk, okay?" This time he definitely heard a sobbing noise. "That's it," he muttered. Pulling his wallet from the pocket of his lab coat, he took a credit card and tried to use it to unlock the door. It was a lot harder than it looked in the movies.

Before he got very far, however, he heard the lock click. He stepped back, a little surprised, but quickly shook it off. Sometimes things moved around Cecil without him having to touch them. Carlos had tried to explain it once, but had eventually chocked it up to Cecil's strange third eye on his forehead. One day he'd explain exactly how it worked. Today was not that day.

He opened the door slowly, trying not to startle Cecil. "Honey?" Carlos said softly, looking around the room. His eyes landed on Cecil, curled up in the corner, glasses sitting discarded on the floor, his hands over his ears like he was trying to block out a sound only he could hear. Carlos couldn't see his face, but from the way Cecil's shoulders were shaking, Carlos was sure he was crying. Cautiously, carefully, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to his boyfriend to kneel across from him.

"Cecil?" Carlos asked. He felt the urge to move as close as he could and pull Cecil into his lap, but he wasn't sure whether or not Cecil even wanted him there, let alone whether he wanted Carlos to touch him. Instead he sat back on his heels.

"Cecil," Carlos said, his voice as soft and soothing as he could make it. He wished, not for the first time, that he had Cecil's vocal skills. "I heard your show today. You sounded pretty freaked out by those recordings. I got home as soon as I could." He took a deep breath. "I wanted to be here for you. Whatever you need, I'll…"

"Why?" Cecil said suddenly, quietly.

Carlos stopped, quirking his head worriedly. "Why what, honey?"

Cecil cut off a sob. "Why…can't I remember them?" His voice, normally rumbling deep in his chest, now sounded high and very, very young. It was a fragile sound, lost and scared. Carlos's heart broke to hear it. He was about to speak into the overwhelming silence when Cecil said, "That was…me. My voice, my…my tapes. But I don't…I tried, but I can't…" His voice broke, and he tensed, pulling his knees in tighter, as if he was trying to hold himself together.

No, Carlos thought sadly. Trying to reassure himself that he's real.

Carlos held out his hand, hesitantly reaching for Cecil. He stopped just short of grabbing his boyfriend's hand. What could he do or say that could make Cecil feel any better? At a loss, Carlos fell back on the only thing he really knew.

"Well, scientifically speaking, it's possible you were affected by some traumatic phenomenon that caused memory loss and…and…" Carlos trailed off. "I'm sorry, Cecil," he sighed. "Without being able to examine the younger you, I can't really give a conclusive…" He stopped talking when Cecil grabbed his wrist. Cecil's knuckles were white, his tattoos pulsing lightly against his pale skin. Carlos twisted his hand to twin his fingers with Cecil's, running his thumb across Cecil's palm. He tried to focus on the matter at hand instead of marveling at how Cecil could possibly have glowing tattoos. He filed it away for later investigation.

"I don't know where they came from," Cecil said. "The tattoos. I don't remember getting them." He lifted his head slowly, and Carlos felt an angry weight settle in his chest. Cecil's face was streaked with old and new tears, his normally white eyes turned red with sobbing. He looked so miserable, so broken. Carlos wanted to find the rest of those cassette tapes and shred every bit of them, wanted to find whatever had made Cecil forget and make it give his memories back. Anything to help take that heart wrenching expression off Cecil's face.

Carlos couldn't help but notice that Cecil's third eye was shut tightly, no tears coming from it. He filed that next to the tattoos for later. Still, he couldn't stop looking at it, as it was unusual to see that eye closed all the way. Normally it was fluttering softly, seeing things that Carlos could only ever guess at. He had a feeling it had something to do with how quickly Cecil got information on the show, but…

But that wasn't important right now. Right now, the important thing was that the man Carlos loved was sobbing on the floor, in pain, and Carlos had to help him.

Cecil had noticed Carlos' staring, and brought his free hand up to touch the lid of his third eye. "I don't remember where this came from, either. I've had it for…for a very long time." His voice was still small and quiet, catching somewhere in his throat. "Carlos, I…what more am I forgetting? What more _will_ I forget? What if…" He took a deep shaky breath that Carlos could feel resonating in his own chest. "I had a brother. I worked at the radio station. Both of those things seemed important, but I can't…remember." Cecil's grip tightened around Carlos's hand. "What if I…you're important to me, Carlos." Cecil replaced his head on his knees, unable to continue.

He didn't need to. Carlos understood. Slowly, hesitantly, he scooted forward until he was pressed against Cecil's side. When he met no protest, Carlos laid his arm across Cecil's shoulders, stroking his hair. Cecil leaned into the touch, almost absentmindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be held by him. Carlos smiled softly at that.

"I can't remember how I got to Night Vale," he said quietly. Cecil stopped shaking for a moment as he listened to Carlos speak. "I don't remember how I found out about this place to begin with. I'm even starting to forget exactly what my life was like before Night Vale." He continued running his fingers through Cecil's hair soothingly, his thumb rubbing circles across Cecil's wrist. "But you know what I do remember? I remember the first time I listened to your show. I remember hearing your wonderful, soothing voice moving across the airwaves to me." Carlos chuckled. "I was so embarrassed when you talked about me. Perfect hair this, perfect hair that. 'And I fell in love instantly.' Do you remember saying that, Cecil? It caught me off guard. I hadn't been expecting a declaration of love on my first day in a new town. But I kept listening, and I kept hearing how much you cared about Night Vale and the radio station, all the times you remember talking to me. How excited you were." Carlos smiled into Cecil's hair. "I remember the look on your face after I kissed you for the first time. You were so flustered, your face the loudest shade of pink. But your eyes were bright, and happy. And, well…" Carlos laughed a bit, pulling Cecil in closer. "And I fell in love instantly."

Cecil had stopped shaking entirely now, his breathing evening out as he listened to Carlos's voice. "I won't ever forget you, Cecil Gershwin Palmer. Not ever. Just like you will never forget me." Carlos put a finger under Cecil's chin, gently lifting his face until their eyes met. "I don't know what made you forget, and I don't know exactly what you've forgotten. But I will never, _ever,_ let it happen again." He lightly kissed the closed lid of Cecil's third eye.

Cecil's eyes were wondering, hesitant. Carlos sat quietly beside him, tracing the lines of Cecil's tattoos with his fingers. He waited, patiently, as Cecil leaning his head on Carlos's shoulder. He was reminded, suddenly, of the night in the Arby's parking lot. The first time he'd realized how important Cecil Palmer was to him.

How desperately he didn't want to lose him.

They sat like that, holding each other, for a long time. Carlos traced Cecil's tattoos. Cecil played with the hem of Carlos's lab coat. Eventually, after who knew how long (for time was completely irrelevant and didn't work right in Night Vale, anyway), Carlos reached across Cecil and picked his glasses up from the floor. He placed them carefully over Cecil's eyes before kissing the top of his head.

"Come on," Carlos said, standing up and pulling Cecil with him. "Let's go to bed."

Carlos started to move away, but Cecil's hand on his wrist stopped him. Before he realized what was happening, Carlos was pulled into Cecil's chest, the radio host wrapping his arms tightly around him. He relaxed into the embrace, holding Cecil tightly.

"Thank you," Cecil said softly into Carlos's perfect hair.

"Any time," Carlos said into Cecil's chest.

That night, as they lay in bed, with his arms wrapped around Carlos, Cecil thought about all of the memories he had of Carlos. He was happy to find that there were so many. Seemingly endless memories of Carlos's perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect laugh. Memories of Carlos waxing scientific on their dates, of his eyes as he listened to Cecil talk about the station. Memories of Carlos's arms around him, their hands intertwined.

He smiled softly and pulled Carlos closer. Carlos muttered happily in his sleep, burying his head in the pillow. Cecil closed his eyes.

 _Good night, Carlos._

 _Good night._


End file.
